


burning hill

by boiledfeetbeta



Series: Komahina Stuff [2]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Extended Metaphors, Gay Komaeda Nagito, Hospitals, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Just to be safe, Komaeda Nagito's Luck Cycle, M/M, Post-Canon, Reminiscing, bumped the rating up to mature because of some themes, i rewrote this like 12 times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29790273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boiledfeetbeta/pseuds/boiledfeetbeta
Summary: When Komaeda was six years old, his mother bought him a bag of glow-in-the-dark plastic stars that stuck to his ceiling. He would stare at them until he fell asleep, their soft glow illuminating his dark bedroom.There were no stars on the hospital ceiling, Komaeda thought.***in which komaeda shares the bad memories with someone, just to get some weight off of his shoulders.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Series: Komahina Stuff [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194500
Comments: 21
Kudos: 119





	burning hill

**Author's Note:**

> TW!! this fic briefly touches on child abuse, sexual assault, death, and self-harm. please don't read if that isn't for you, i have something super fluffy that i've been working on!
> 
> now that that's out of the way, holy shit! i somehow got over 1000 hits on TWO of my fics, which is fucking INSANE, first of all. i have no IDEA how i'm supposed to thank you for that, so I just wrote some fluffy-ish angst and hurt/comfort, since ik how much you all like that.  
> as always, comments and kudos are very appreciated. i try my best to respond to all of them
> 
> if u want to listen the bg music i listened to while writing, here's the links (i cry so hard to these songs, and i promise it's not maroon 5 or coconut mall)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4Ly5TnnaAs  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16N4OjhjZAE  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTFe_bUZH3o

Komaeda found himself staring at the hospital ceiling more often than not. Ceilings, Komaeda thought, were very important to a room.

When Komaeda was six years old, his mother bought him a bag of glow-in-the-dark plastic stars that stuck to his ceiling. He would stare at them until he fell asleep, their soft glow illuminating his dark bedroom. Komaeda’s mother was not a kind person, truth be told. She yelled a lot, so much so that it would strain her voice and she wouldn’t be able to talk for days. Those days were the only ones where Komaeda felt safe from her.

People didn’t make sense to Komaeda. His mother, despite being a cruel woman, told Komaeda that she loved him before she died. She kissed his forehead and petted his hair, and in her last moments, she showed him more kindness than he had ever seen from her before. It was almost enough.

Komaeda came back to his childhood home at sixteen, only to find the building dilapidated and everything inside completely untouched, like he had never left. He didn’t want to look in his father’s study, or his mother’s room where she slept alone. Instead, he headed to his own bedroom, where the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling remained, though their edges peeled, and they were slightly discolored. Komaeda turned off the lights-- though it was barely noticeable, the stars still shone dimly. Just a little bit of hope left in their dying forms.

Now, he felt like he was one of them, hope slowly draining from his body as he was unable to do anything about it.

There were no stars on the hospital ceiling, Komaeda thought.

***

Hinata brought him a box of things one day. His name was written on the front in permanent marker, the sides sealed with duct tape.

“From your room in Towa,” Hinata explained. “Someone from the Future Foundation went over there- this is what they managed to recover.”

Komaeda thanked him.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Hinata said, smiling tensely. “I’m sure you want privacy.”

“No.” Komaeda argued. “Please, stay. I can’t… I can’t look at this stuff without someone here.”

Hinata nodded solemnly and sat beside him on the bed as he opened the cardboard box. His trembling hands pulled out the item on top-- it was a weighted metal collar and chain. _PROPERTY OF ENOSHIMA JUNKO_ was engraved on one of the sides. There was a lock that clicked in place when he touched it.

“I can throw it out…” Hinata offered. Komaeda shook his head and positioned it gently on the nightstand. It made a quiet _thunk_ sound as it was placed. He needed to keep it, needed a reminder that he was nothing but property.

Komaeda went back to rummaging through the box, pulling out a shattered picture frame. The photo inside was of a seven-year-old Komaeda and his mother, posing in front of a Christmas tree. He held a small white dog in his arms, a wide smile stretching his face.

The picture made him angry. Angry at his mother for manipulating him into needing her. Angry at his father for letting it happen. And angry at himself for missing both of them.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Hinata told him.

Komaeda looked back at the other, angry tears burning in the corners of his eyes. He would _absolutely not_ cry, not in front of Hinata. Instead he let out a breathless, wheezing laugh. It hurt both his lungs and his heart.

“Don’t be. It’s all my fault anyways.” His voice cracked slightly on the last syllable. “It’s my fault they’re dead.”

Hinata stayed silent. By now, he knew arguing with someone as disgusting as Komaeda was useless. But he looked almost sad as Komaeda continued to search the box. He smiled sadly at a crinkled piece of paper in his hands. Hinata peered over his shoulder to look at it.

“It’s a poem.” Komaeda explained, running his human hand’s fingers over the writing. “My first boyfriend wrote it for me.”

He was a senior while Komaeda was a freshman, but that didn’t bother him. Komaeda was just happy to have someone like him, and to not be bullied by the other kids. His boyfriend offered to let him stay at his own apartment for a few months and he obliged, happy to be away from his aunt for a short period of time. He didn’t have to pay rent, but he paid in sexual favors for his boyfriend’s classmates. He pretended not to mind, because to him, anything was better than being with his aunt.

“That was really sweet of him.” Hinata observed. Komaeda nodded, not wanting to talk about him any longer.

“Yes, it was. It’s a shame he died so young.”

He remembered it clearly- his boyfriend had come home drunk and bleeding. He tried to hit Komaeda, so he threw a wine glass at him and called the police. He would have made it out fine, but the ambulance crashed on the way to the hospital. Komaeda didn’t know if it was good or bad luck.

Still, the poem was lovely.

“Oh, god, Komaeda, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Hinata-kun. I know you mean well.”

Komaeda looked down into the box. There were only a few items left- it seemed he _was_ useless after all.

Hinata smiled, picking up a matted stuffed rabbit. Komaeda grabbed it from him and pressed it to his chest, heaving a sigh of relief. His bunny was okay, thank God.

Was it pathetic for an adult to keep his childhood bunny? Likely. But there wasn’t much about Komaeda that wasn’t pathetic. His bunny was stained with blood, looking almost pitiful. Komaeda didn’t care.

“Who’s this?” Hinata asked.

Komaeda gave him a look as if to say _‘I am not a child, do not baby me’_ before sighing and resting the rabbit on his own lap.

“She was a gift from my father on my first birthday.” Komaeda said, petting between its ears. “She doesn’t have a name.”

“She’s cute.” Hinata smiled. Komaeda nodded in agreement.

“I’m done looking.” Komaeda announced, pushing the box into Hinata’s hands. Hinata raised an eyebrow.

“You sure? There’s still a lot of stuff left…”

“Throw it out.”

Hinata sighed and nodded, closing the box.

“Can I keep it? I won’t look inside, I promise.”

“If that’s what you want, I am in no position to argue.” He inhaled. “Actually, I would like you to read my journal, if it isn’t too much of a burden. There are some things in there that I would like you to know of, but I am not sure how exactly to say it.”

“Got it.” Hinata smiled and stood up.

“Please… come back, Hinata. After you’ve finished reading.”

“I will.”

***

Hinata, much to Komaeda’s surprise, did return. Notebook in hand, he sat down on the edge of Komaeda’s bed. His eyes were red and puffy-- Komaeda hoped he hadn’t been crying over anything he wrote. Hinata took a shaky breath and pulled Komaeda into a soft embrace.

“God, Komaeda, I’m so sorry--” His breath hitched in his throat. “I- I’m _so_ sorry.”

Komaeda’s stomach sank knowing that he caused Hinata to be upset like this. What a disgusting person he was, just leeching off of Hinata like some sort of gross parasite.

“Hinata--”

“I’m so sorry…” He repeated, rubbing circles into Komaeda’s back.

What exactly had Komaeda written that incited this reaction? He didn’t quite remember everything, but he had some recollection. Perhaps Hinata read the entry about how he was bullied in elementary school. It was particularly cruel, even to Komaeda-- a group of boys had written some… _unfavorable_ words on his locker in permanent marker in middle school, causing him to cry in the bathroom for hours. Eventually, a girl found him and gave him half of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

It could have been an entry about that same girl. Her name was Yumi, and she was a grade younger than Komaeda. She always gave him some of her food because he never had any from home. One day, she confessed that she had a crush on him, but he had to decline, telling her that he just wasn’t interested in girls that way. Yumi said that it was okay with her, but word got out to the rest of his grade somehow. That caused some even _crueler_ words to be written all over his locker and desk. At the time, he didn’t even know what those things meant. But it really wasn’t hard to figure out.

There was an entry about how he was nearly killed by his aunt once-- she locked him in the basement for almost a week and fed him nothing but water. Eventually, he was able to get out of his prison and resided at a friend’s house for another week or so before his aunt noticed his disappearance and called the police.

It could have been one of the numerous entries _about_ the police. Komaeda didn’t really like law enforcement in general-- they weren’t very good at doing their job, it seemed. A couple times he had called, but they never came and instead he was punished. Komaeda was very glad that his aunt was dead, even though that was a rude thing to think, because now he didn’t have to rely on the police any longer.

Hinata was crying now. It made Komaeda so _unbelievably_ angry at himself that he wanted to take a razor blade and dig it into the skin on his wrists. But he knew that would make Hinata feel even worse, so he didn’t. He hugged Hinata back.

“Do you hate me, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda whispered.

“God, no. No, I- I would never hate you.”

Komaeda breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed into Hinata’s warm embrace. It had been so, _so_ long since anyone held him like that. He could have died right then and there-- he _should_ have died right then and there, because God knows what bad luck would follow this moment. This tender, _real_ moment with Hinata, of all people. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry so badly, but he wouldn’t let himself.

 _“You shouldn’t cry,”_ Komaeda’s father told him once, after he had been hit by a stray baseball at the park. “ _Boys don’t cry. Crying is for women, Nagito.”_

Stupid. The whole idea was stupid, really. Komaeda could cry whenever he wanted, his dad wasn’t even _alive_ anymore. But it _stuck_ anyways-- he hadn’t cried since he lived with Enoshima.

Ah, that was probably it. The tens of entries detailing every night, every painful second he spent with that woman. That must have been what Hinata had read to make him react in such a way.

Hinata pulled away from him, still rubbing his back soothingly. “I- I’m so sorry, Komaeda.” His voice broke. Komaeda cursed himself out in his head, trying not to stare into Hinata’s shiny eyes.

“Are you.. okay now?” Hinata whispered. 

Komaeda nodded, hoping it was convincing enough.

It wasn’t.

“N-no, I- I shouldn’t even ask that. I didn’t mean to make it about me, it’s _you_ who should be crying-”

“It’s alright, Hinata-kun.” He tried not to let his voice waver. “I came to terms with everything a long time ago.”

Hinata took a shaky breath and embraced him once again. Komaeda felt the warmth enveloping his entire body. It was so similar to the way Enoshima held him, yet so _different_ all the same. Komaeda let his head fall onto Hinata’s shoulders as he petted his unruly hair. His hands gripped Hinata around the waist, and he hoped he was hugging him right. He didn’t want Hinata to think he was bad at hugging on top of everything else.

“It’s okay, Nagito.”

Komaeda felt his heart swell in his chest at the use of his first name, something that he hadn’t heard in a long time. He buried his head into Hinata’s neck to stop the tears from escaping. He took a shaky breath as his vision clouded.

“Hey, everything is alright.” Hinata breathed, combing his fingers through Komaeda’s hair. “You can cry, if you want. It might make you feel better.”

He _wanted_ to cry, wanted it _so bad_ because he hadn’t cried in _years,_ but he couldn’t have Hinata see him so _vulnerable_. He couldn’t let Hinata see him like that, because it would make it so _easy_ for Hinata to take advantage. But Hinata wouldn’t do that.

Komaeda blinked, letting the built-up tears in his eyes roll down his cheeks and onto the soft skin of Hinata’s neck. Once they started, they wouldn’t stop. Komaeda was glad his face wasn’t visible, because he must have looked absolutely repulsive.

“Sorry…” His words were muffled by the fabric of Hinata’s shirt. Hinata shushed him gently, arms tightening around his neck.

It was good to cry, even if he didn’t know what he was crying about. At first it was his parents and the hazy weekends the three of them had spent together-- then it was his dog, the picture-perfect moments they had. It was a bag of glow-in-the-dark plastic stars on his bedroom ceiling. It was his ex-boyfriend and the hundreds of dates that always felt like the first. It was Enoshima and the rare moments where she would smile and laugh, and how proud he felt that he had done something right. It was Kamukura and his occasional expressions of emotion that made Komaeda’s heart beat out of his chest. It was Yumi and her peanut-butter sandwich in the school bathrooms, it was Nanami and her sleepy smiles, it was Hinata and his warm embrace. Hinata, with his stupid spiky hair and even spikier personality. Hinata, with his awkward smirks and too-tight ties, his pretty hands and his ever-changing eye color.

Hinata, who despite everything, stayed by Komaeda’s side.

And Komaeda, who despite everything, would do the same.

***

Komaeda awoke in Hinata’s arms. Hinata was snoring, a quiet comfort to Komaeda- it showed that he was alive. Komaeda put a hand on Hinata’s chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Light shone in through the hospital window, casting a golden glow throughout the whole room. There were no plastic stars on the ceiling, but Komaeda felt as if they were there. The air conditioner buzzed softly in the corner of the room, Komaeda’s IV dripping. It was such a familiar sound that he was so used to hearing, but never in the company of another.

Maybe Komaeda wouldn’t die alone, after all. Maybe it was okay for him to entertain his fantasies for a little longer.

Hinata stirred, scrunching his nose. Komaeda couldn’t help but stare at him, watching as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He looked over at Komaeda and smiled. Komaeda turned away and stared up at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about?” Hinata asked.

“Stars.” Komaeda responded, not bothering to look at him. “Plastic stars, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The ones that glow in the dark. I used to have them on my ceiling when I was a kid.” Komaeda smiled fondly at the memory. “I would spend hours making up constellations- they had stories and everything. But anyways, I was just thinking about them.”

“How come?” Hinata shifted so that his head was leaning on his elbows.

“When I made up a new constellation, I was proud of myself. For creating something, you know? But the thing is, the stars were already there. I just named them.” Komaeda forced a chuckle. “I never made anything on my own, but I still took the credit.”

“Well, yeah.” Hinata sighed. “But technically no one makes anything, by that logic. Musicians are just taking notes and rearranging them. So even though the stars existed before, you’re the one who found patterns in them. If you can look at a bunch of glow-in-the-dark stars and really _see something_ , that just goes to show how smart you are, right?”

Komaeda blinked, turning to face him. His eyes were wide with shock.

“Creation doesn’t mean you made it from scratch. If I bake brownies from a box, I still technically made them. The fact that I took the initiative and baked them in the first place is the admirable thing. It doesn’t matter how they came to be if they taste good.”

Komaeda was silent, staring into Hinata’s tired eyes. The IV dripped, the air conditioner whirred. Life went on, no matter what. It went to show, really, how small Komaeda is in the world. Like his death wouldn’t matter. To some people, that would be cause for concern.

To him, it was cathartic. He would die one day, and the world would keep turning. The air conditioner would keep running, and the IV would keep dripping. The stars in his bedroom would continue to peel. Hinata would keep being stubborn.

Komaeda, for the first time in a while, didn’t want to die. For as long as he could remember, Komaeda wanted his death to mean something. He thought it did, once. But, despite his efforts, nothing changed. The world kept turning, the stars kept peeling. Hinata kept being stubborn.

All this for Komaeda to realize- some things can’t change. Some things are too iron-clad to be moved by just a single death.

“Hinata-kun?”

“Mhm?”

“I think I want the box back. I’m not done looking through it.”

In the bottom of a cardboard box, there sat a plastic bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, saved from the wreckage of an abandoned mansion.

Some things really can change. Some things, like the color of someone’s eyes, may shift with time. Some things are constant. Some things, like the drip of an IV or the buzz of an air conditioner, will always be there. Some things don’t change. Some things, like the turning of the world, couldn’t stop if they wanted to.

Some things, like stars on a ceiling, don’t need to.

***

**Author's Note:**

> EXACTLY 3000 WORDS WHAT  
> (mitski could have written hey jude but the beatles could not have written a burning hill.)
> 
> a message 2 hajime kinnies: i love u sm, i would die 4 u!! value urself bby  
> a message 2 nagito kinnies: pls do not eat fishtank rocks, i know they look really good but i promise they are not


End file.
